


Post Brits

by stopthedimples



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, one direction - Freeform, the brits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:45:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopthedimples/pseuds/stopthedimples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry doesn’t blush. He doesn’t. He just sighs happily, cuddling a little closer in your lap to press your foreheads together, lips brushing lightly against each other’s. Harry bunches up the back of your thin pajama shorts realizing happily that the fabric feels familiar because it’s his. And he likes when you wear things that are his, because you are his and he would wear you like his favorite sweater if he could. “You going to have Lou put your hair in a quiff tonight?”</p>
<p>“Yeah I think—I mean you like that right?” He mumbles against the fabric of your thigh, his voice slightly muffled from his position and his intent to rub his face further into your scent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post Brits

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little Post Brits one shot requested on tumblr (selytseyrrah) and I know my title sucks, but hey it makes sense.

“I’m scared.” He murmured.

“Scared? Haz you guys are amazing, your voice is in perfect condition lately and you have dedicated fans. Don’t stress, you’ll get butt wrinkles.” You laughed, tossing him a pair of black socks. “Don’t forget those this time, Lou will be pissed.”

But he just drops them onto the floor and saunters on his hands and knees and crosses his king sized bed, dropping his head into your lap. Your hands immediately finding his curls, upon 18 months of instinct, it’s more than natural. 

“You don’t know how perfect you are.” You remind him, just as you have before every award show he’s attended since you met. Harry doesn’t blush. He doesn’t. He just sighs happily, cuddling a little closer in your lap to press your foreheads together, lips brushing lightly against each other’s. Harry bunches up the back of your thin pajama shorts realizing happily that the fabric feels familiar because it’s his. And he likes when you wear things that are his, because you are his and he would wear you like his favorite sweater if he could. “You going to have Lou put your hair in a quiff tonight?”

“Yeah I think—I mean you like that right?” He mumbles against the fabric of your thigh, his voice slightly muffled from his position and his intent to rub his face further into your scent.

You just hum back, choosing not to actually make a deal out of the way you like him to wear his hair. He could have no hair and you’d still be okay with it. Harry takes a second to kiss you, his lips just brushing against yours, minus any pressure. Shaking his head, he moves soft and easy and just dips back in to take your bottom lip in his mouth.  
Harry swallows his moan, your fingers still working in his hair, and wraps his fingers around your thin wrists as he pulls you to a standing position. 

“Haz?” You breathe, furrowing your brows in his direction. Your voice dropping surely there was something wrong. 

“I’m—I think I’m going to be sick.” He gasps; pushing passed you to rush into his joining bathroom. Your body shaken as he slams the door behind him, blocking you.  
\--

Harry manages to let the jokes slip passed him while he’s on the red carpet, manages to clarify that he had a back and shoulder massage before he got ready, because he knows his mom is watching, and just manages to hold back the vomit that is stuck in his throat. 

He bites his tongue at the beginning of the ceremony, clapping respectively while Taylor performs. He bites his tongue when the boys write your name on a napkin and pass it around the table because you’re the girlfriend who didn’t get to come. And he definitely bites his tongue as respective presenters take stabs at his love life.  
If only they knew.  
\--

“I’m back!” Harry shouts, dropping his keys by the front door, right on the floor because he knows it drive you absolutely insane and he really likes that in you. 

“Babe?” He questions again catching glimpse of light from upstairs, bright and vibrant leaking out of his bedroom door. “If you’re naked, let me know. Because I’m stressed and I might have a real life heart attack!” 

He stops mid-step when he hears you giggle, a smile catching his face again widening his dimples.

He stops again at the top of the stairs and takes in a deep breath, because he wasn’t kidding about having a heart attack, he’d drank at the after party and was still overloaded with stress. 

It could happen. 

He stops one last time three feet into his room, because yeah he expects her to be there, but he doesn’t expect her to be there completely naked on a bed full of roses with little tea candles lit around the room and the bed sheets are already pulled back and he just wasn’t expecting it.

“C’mere,” You gestured towards him to lie down on the bed.

But again he stops just in front of you on the bed.

Harry continues to stare down at you with a fiery intent in his eyes, and you practically have to will yourself to not come at the intensity. Your eyes are blown wide, dark with lust, but filled with passion, spread abundantly. There's care and love and appreciation and Harry just melts, because today has been a whirlwind and he wanted nothing more all day than to just be home, so he tosses himself forward towards you, his hands meeting perfectly in the dip of your hips.

The kiss is like his favorite movie, the part that gets him to pull his legs up to his chest and mock the words in his head. The kiss is like the first time all over again, literally, there is a little bit too much tongue and a little too much teeth. But none the less it’s perfect. 

There’s a sad moment of realization that you have to stop, you need to breathe, and that’s the only part of it all that Harry hates. Until your pink lips are closing back in on Harry’s and it’s like he’s stepped onto a rollercoaster, stomach left long behind.

And he’s back on the bed, his shirt tugged off and your hands fumbling with his buckle, and just then he thinks he might throw up again. 

\--

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but then decided whatever he’d wanted to say wasn’t worth it and turned back to the complete mess you had been making on his neck. And after getting him out of his clothes it wasn’t hard to have him completely distracted. 

“How do you feel now?” You ask, dropping into his lap, a knee on either side of his hips. “Are you still scared?” You asked again rubbing your wetness against his length, fully hard and already leaking against you.

Harry was certain he made some sort of undignified noise in response, because he couldn’t even open his mouth to say real words—the way you were rubbing against him—he just couldn’t speak. 

“What do you want? My mouth—or we could just—“ 

“Just—lets—please.” Harry instantly dropped his head into the valley between your breasts, carefully licking a strip and then begging with his eyes. It was something he did—silently begging—because sometimes around you he just can’t speak. 

So you took control—advantage almost—and gripped him in your hand, lifting just enough so that he was right at your entrance. 

Harry squirmed with the anticipation, tracking every movement you—his lover made with his bright orbs. Harry sucks you bottom lip into his mouth and licks it. His hand finds its way into your hair and the other on your shoulder, stroking the soft skin. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and it seeks for its partner, teases and probes. It lifts a moan from your throat and you tug onto his curls harder.

One more tug and he’s pressed himself inside, because you would have teased for as long as he would let you, and apparently tonight was one of those nights.  
You both drop instantly moans, yours small and stuck in your throat and his almost like a yelp straight from his stomach. His hands clench quickly onto your hips and he tries to maneuver you and move towards the edge of the bed more, so he can get some sort of leg leverage.

“Faster. Something.” You gasp, his speed instantly picking up, a smirk playing crossed his face, accentuating his dimples. And just for a moment you forget where you are and you think about poking into one of his dimples, and then he hits just the right spot causing you to cry out, and suddenly the dimple doesn’t matter so much anymore.

(Note to self: poke his dimple in post sex cuddle.)

Your still rolling your hips on his cock.

Harder. Faster. Anything you can get out of your bruised lips.

His hands grabbing your bum and picking you up, just enough to pull you back down and curve his cock. Sliding you back down, over and over again. You bite your lip, trying to muffle your moans, although it’s pretty pointless, because his cock is filling you up as he continues to control your body. 

“Make it hurt.” You bite out, instantly taking his lip into your mouth. “Come on baby.” 

Although you had told yourself this was about Harry you could feel yourself began to clench and your stomach beginning to pool with heat.  
And then you lost it.

You lost complete control of all your senses as your high hit, Harry continuing to rock his hips through it. You clenched your eyes closed harder than before, your hands digging into the muscle of his back, and your legs tightening around his waist, and for the time being you were sure you had been holding your breath.

Apparently you had rocked for longer than you thought because just as you opened your eyes Harry was dropping a string of profanities mixed with your name, and collapsing back onto his forearms, dragging you down into his chest.

“You made me not nervous.”

“Hm.” You blinked, desperately trying to keep you eyes open. 

“You asked if I was still scared after I left, but you made me not—you made me—I don’t know, I just wasn’t nervous anymore.” And then he pausing taking in his surroundings. “Did you fall asleep on me?” He laughs.

“You’re still in me you tit. Of course I’m not asleep.” You laugh, rolling over. “Love you.”


End file.
